


Through a Mirror Sideways

by estelraca



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Growing Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: Minako sees something of herself in Yuuri, though they are different in many ways.  It's part of why she agrees to help him train.





	Through a Mirror Sideways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Qem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qem/gifts).



> I hope you have a great holiday season and that you enjoy this tale of Minako!

_Through a Mirror Sideways_

Minako starts dancing because she loves it.

Most children do, she will think in retrospect, when she is starting her own studio and deciding how she wants to run it. Most children find something joyous in giving themselves over to the music, in finding a way to let their bodies match the rhythms and give rise to something else.

Most children aren't as talented at it as she is, though.

Who is it that tells her parents that there's something special about her? Minako doesn't know if it's her instructor or someone else. All she knows is that when she is five years old, her mother and father sit her down to ask her about what she wants to do with her life.

How is she supposed to know how to answer that? She's just a child. She can't even remember the reason she first asked to start dance lessons. She has a vague recollection that maybe she saw ballet in an anime, and that is what she will tell people when she's older and they care more about her opinion, but for now all she knows is that she loves it.

She loves it, and they are offering to let her dance to her heart's desire.

Dance _beyond_ her heart's desire, she will learn soon enough. If she wants to be truly good—and oh, she wants to be good, she wants to be _great_ , especially as the other children mock her accent—then she has to dance long past when her legs want her to stop. She has to dance when other children are watching television, going to the movies, collecting bugs, going swimming, enjoying a thousand other little past-times that they will look back on fondly. But she loves it, still, even when her feet hurt, even when her arms ache, even when her heart looks with jealousy at what others have, and the fact that she is good makes it all worth while.

Her parents ask her if this is what she wants every step of the way. They are kinder in that way than many of her fellow hopefuls, and Minako will look back on them fondly for it, but in the end it makes no difference.

To be great at dance is to give yourself wholly over to its study almost before there is a _you_ to give. To gain the flexibility, the strength, the muscle memory that will make a truly great dancer is to study and practice and study and practice, to make the dance a part of what she is at her core.

Could she have been something else? Perhaps.

Would she prefer to be someone else? Never.

Even on her darkest days, Minako never regrets the choices that shaped her life.

XXX

Yuuri takes to the ice because he loves it.

He isn't as naturally talented as some of the others. Minako has had decades to learn to watch how people move their bodies, how they interact with the world, how they hold themselves and what they can do with that self-knowledge. She can pick a good dancer out of her classes within an hour or two; she has already spotted one or two who could, maybe, be great, though none have elected to pursue the career as strongly as they would need to in order to achieve their goal.

Yuuri is only five. He is still gangly and awkward, still learning how to use his limbs to aid him in defying gravity. But he is _better_ at it than some of his peers, and as Minako watches him practice she is startled to see _how_ much better he can become.

"Are you making him practice?" Minako asks Hiroko as they stand at the edge of the rink, their breath fogging slightly in the cold air.

"No." Hiroko frowns, watching her youngest child. "I'd prefer that he didn't spend so much time here, actually. Whenever I ask him what he wants to do, though, he always chooses skating. _I feel safe on the ice_ , he says."

Minako makes a considering sound in the back of her throat, watching the small boy turn awkwardly from skating forward to skating backward. His balance totters slightly, but he doesn't fall, and he repeats the maneuver four more times while she watches, getting steadily better at it as he does.

"...Minako-senpai?"

Minako turns to look at Hiroko, feeling heat rush up to her cheeks as she realizes she missed what her friend was saying. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I was just wondering... do you think I should be worried?" Hiroko glances down at her hands, looking sheepish. "He's just... so different from Mari. Which I know, there can be differences between girls and boys, and no two siblings are alike, but... sometimes I feel like I don't know what to do for him."

"Will you let me teach him?" The question is out of Minako's mouth before she knows she intends to ask it. "Let me teach him dance, I mean."

Hiroko blinks. "I... suppose I could. If you want to."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to." Minako smiles as she reaches out to clap Hiroko on the shoulder. Then she moves to the door leading onto the ice, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Hey Yuuri! Try it again while putting a little more weight on your right foot and increasing the angle you have your skates at!"

She has to call out her instructions a second time before the grave little boy nods, frowning to himself as he attempts to put her instructions to use. The first two times he falls.

The third time he turns front to back with a smoothness and poise that had been lacking before, and a moment later he reverses the steps so that he's going forward again. He turns to grin at Minako, clearly unfazed by the slight scrape across his right cheek.

Minako makes a show of clapping for him, and a moment later hears Hiroko at her side doing the same thing.

Yuuri isn't quite like her, but as Minako watches him skate towards them she wonders exactly what he might grow up to be with the proper training.

XXX

Minako doesn't attend elementary school.

She does have schooling, of course. She and the other dancers in training—the elite, the best of their generation, the ones who will, they are told, go on to be something greater—are schooled by tutors. It ensures that they know reading, writing, basic mathematics, basic history.

It keeps them isolated, though none of them realize it at the time. They have each other, after all. Dancing, learning, waking, sleeping—they have each other and only each other, their contact with the rest of the world limited to what their families bring and what they see on television.

It's complete, in some ways. They learn many of the things that children are supposed to learn. They learn death from the loss of grandparents and pets. (They have fewer pets than their peers who don't dance, she will learn in retrospect; children who have to devote themselves to a cause have less time to devote themselves to a beloved creature.) They learn of love and the breaking of love from watching their parents and the divorces that many of their parents go through. (They see more divorce than their peers who don't dance, she will learn in retrospect; parents who have to deal with a prodigy child find less time to salve their own wounds.)

It's woefully incomplete in others. They learn how to say goodbye well enough. Every few months it seems that someone is leaving, dropping out, their dreams snuffed away or replaced by something that they can pursue closer to home. They are worse at saying hello, especially as they age. Fewer and fewer new faces join their elite ranks the older they get—if you haven't broken in by a certain point, the likelihood that you ever will is slim.

It's when Minako returns home with her parents for a birthday party with the family and sees her cousins that she realizes how different her world is from the one that they inherit. She knows some of what they discuss—some of the games, some of the movies, some of the shows and books that form the core of popular knowledge.

Not enough, and when they return to dance classes Minako asks her parents if she can attend a public middle and high school.

Despite her dance instructors warning it might prove a career-destroying diversion, her parents say yes.

Minako has never felt more a part of her people and country than when she's sitting for the high school entrance exams, and she vows never to let that sense of belonging be eradicated by a profession that wants to devour everything about those who love it.

XXX

Yuuri always attends public school.

Even when it becomes obvious in late elementary school that he has both talent and determination, that he could actually _do_ something with his skating, his parents allow him to continue his schooling in Hasetsu.

"It's the right decision." Minako downs her drink, setting the glass for Hiroko to refill. "I was worried I'd have to talk to you guys about it, but you already did the smart thing."

"Not everyone is sure it's that smart." Hiroko sighs, resting her chin on one hand as she swirls her drink with the other. "We've had so many people tell us we're stifling his ambitions... but it's what Yuuri wants. He doesn't want to give up his life yet."

"And he shouldn't have to." Minako drinks this glass more slowly, savoring the sweet flavor on her tongue followed by the burn of the alcohol. "He can have both. For now, at least. Until he gets old enough and good enough that to compete he'll have to travel everywhere. Then you can have a different conversation with him."

"That's what I figured. Especially since..." Hiroko hesitates, then charges on, tilting her glass towards Minako. "You always seemed so grateful to be in high school with me. Everyone else was complaining about the hours and the tests and the work, but you just... you were happy to be a part of it. That always stayed with me."

"It can consume you, if you let it. If your parents push you, or your coaches, or no one tells you that it's supposed to be fun still." Minako swirls her glass. "Work, yes, but it should still be _fun_ work, or what's the point? If you can't still give yourself to the music..."

Closing her eyes, Minako allows her body to sway to the background songs playing for the inn's guests.

Hiroko smiles, bringing her drink to her mouth and taking a small sip. "That's the look I love to see, on you and on him. That... brightness. That joy."

"It's what makes the rest of it worthwhile." Minako raises her glass. "To the next generation, and them having everything they need."

Their glasses clink, and Minako wishes Yuuri all the luck in the world with whatever path he decides to take, whether that includes skating or dancing or something else entirely.

XXX

Minako dances for two reasons.

The first is that she loves it. She has always loved it, and she can't imagine a time when she _won't_ love it. The flow of her body along the pulse of the melodies is something precious, sublime, _divine_ in a way that makes her believe perhaps the kami or Buddha or something else is actually real.

The second reason is that she has someone to live up to.

Lilia is seven years older than her. It isn't much of a gap, but in the dancing world—in the _elite_ dancing world, and by the time Minako has graduated from high school it's clear that she's elite—it can be a small eternity.

Minako remembers the first time she saw Lilia perform. They were members of different troupes, both invited to play at a festival in Saint Petersburg. Minako was new enough at traveling for everything to still feel exotic and beautiful, inspiring and awesome and a little bit frightening at once.

That's what Lilia was, too, all gorgeous sharp lines and ensnaring curves, and Minako fell in love before the song was half done.

Did she love the dancer? It must have been that, at first. She didn't know Lilia, after all. Not _really_ , though she had seen a little of Lilia bleed through into the performance. Dedication, devotion, determination—those belonged not just to the character Lilia was playing but to the ballerina who captured her so vividly, and it didn't take Minako long to decide she needed to meet her.

It isn't hard to slip away from her caretakers. They are assuming none of the girls will want to get lost, counting on the language barrier to add one more frightening hurdle that will discourage jumping.

Minako never was one to take discouraging comments to heart.

It takes her about eight minutes to get backstage. It only should have taken three, but trying to ask for and understand directions isn't easy when her Russian is limited to about six words. Still, she's there when Lilia emerges and is able to approach the graceful woman.

Even in street clothes Lilia is gorgeous. She moves as though each gesture is part of some infinite dance, carefully choreographed, carefully controlled. Minako watches her for almost half a minute before managing to blurt out a startled hello.

Lilia turns to her, one eyebrow arching up. She responds in Russian, and if one of Minako's six words is used she doesn't catch it.

"Sorry." Minako replies in Japanese, raising her hands to demonstrate her confusion.

Lilia pauses, and then sighs. "English?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Minako replies, "I speak English."

"Good. This will go better than gesturing, then." Lilia's voice matches her movements—sure and precise, though Minako can hear some of the foreign words trying to trip on Lilia's tongue. "Who are you?"

"Ah... my name's Minako. I just—that is, I wanted to say—" Minako can feel blood rushing to her cheeks, her throat, the back of her head, pounding in time with her heart. "You were brilliant today. I want to dance as well as you do some day."

Lilia reaches out, her fingers trailing along Minako's cheek. "Hm. Will you dance for me, then?"

Minako looks around. "What, here?"

A smile just touches the corners of Lilia's mouth. "Unless you'd prefer to go onstage?"

Lifting her head in defiance, Minako smiles back. "I'll dance anywhere you want. And one day I'll dance with you."

Lilia doesn't argue, just lifting one eyebrow enquiringly, and Minako takes that as a request to start dancing if she's going to do it.

She should have warmed up. Immediately moving into a dance, while wearing only her street clothes, is asking for a foolish injury. Right then, though, Minako doesn't care. She just needs to see Lilia's eyes on her, watch as Lilia's face shifts, expression becoming contemplative.

"There." Pushing sweat-soaked bangs away from her eyes, Minako grins. "What do you think?"

"You are proud." Lilia prowls in a slow circle around Minako. "This is not a bad thing. It takes pride to do what we do—to craft something that others can see and hold and cling to but that is as ephemeral as the moments we walk between."

Minako grins.

"You also need more discipline." Lilia's almost-smile flashes again. "But if you work for it... well, perhaps we will one day share a stage."

That's all the encouragement Lilia gives, turning to walk away.

It's all the encouragement Minako needs, and for the next three months she presses her fingers to the cheek that Lilia touched whenever she needs a reminder of why she's pushing herself so hard.

XXX

Yuuri skates because he feels safe wrapped in the motions of the song, the cool of the ice.

He's always been different from Minako—different from his mother and his father and his sister, different even from those he skates with. If he didn't have skating and dancing to fall back on, to bury himself in when the world became too much, would he have become one of those _hikikomori_ , never emerging from his room?

Minako likes to think not. She likes to think that they would have found ways to help him deal with his fear and anxiety, if they needed to.

They don't need to, though. Yuuri deals on his own by retreating to where he feels safe. He practices more than anyone else in his age range, even others who are hoping to make their skating more than just a fad, and it quickly begins to show.

"You're sure you don't mind?" Hiroko blows tentatively on her hot milk tea before taking a sip, the warm beverage steaming fiercely in the cool air of the ice arena.

"I don't mind." Minako smiles at her friend, her own warm beverage clasped between both hands. "Look at him. He's going to do great things, I think, if we just let him keep going."

"But I know he's been down at the studio three out of four nights this week." Hiroko sighs. "I've told him he doesn't need to be so nervous about the tests, that no matter what we'll find a way for him to move forward with his education, but he always gets so worked up."

"He doesn't handle pressure well." It's going to be one of the hardest things for him to handle about skating, Minako thinks. Jumps he can do in practice he fails during events, the pressure of a thousand gazes weighing on him as they hadn't on Minako. "But he'll learn. As long as he feels safe with me, I'm happy to have him at the studio or bring him down here to practice."

"You're so kind to him." Hiroko smiles gently, her eyes seeming to dance with knowledge as she studies Minako.

"What?" Minako frowns, taking a deep drink. "What's so surprising about that? He's my student, and my friend's child. Heck, he's a kid. Of course I'll be nice to him."

"Of course." There's still knowledge in Hiroko's eyes as she watches Yuuri, her smile fading a bit. "You really think this could be it for him? What he hangs his life on?"

"It's never what you hang your life on. Not if you're smart. It's gone too quickly for that." Minako takes another drink. "But something important for him? Maybe something important for our country? Yeah. I think it might be that."

"Then I suppose we'll just let him keep practicing, and see what comes of it." Hiroko's face lights up as the music changes. "Oh, it's that song he likes! The one the Russian boy was skating to."

Minako frowns. She's becoming more familiar with skaters since helping Yuuri with his training, but it still takes her a minute to place this one. Oh, right. The Boy Wonder from Russia, the fae princeling.

Minako's eyes track back to Yuuri, and she freezes at the sight of him. He's shifted from practicing steps for his own next performance to something else entirely, and it only takes watching him for ten seconds to confirm that he's mimicking one of Nikiforov's performances.

Neither Hiroko nor Minako attempt to interrupt Yuuri. For one thing it would be difficult, Yuuri's eyes focused elsewhere, his body caught up in the difficult routine he's trying to do; for another, it would be cruel. Minako knows what it is to lose yourself in someone else's work, and she wouldn't erase the joy from Yuuri's face for all the medals in the world.

When Yuuri's done he looks over to them and smiles shyly.

Setting her tea down, Minako cups her hands around her mouth. "Good job. Now get back to work on your own routine if you ever want to actually show off to him in person."

Yuuri's expression takes on a panicked cast, and he throws himself back into his practicing with gusto.

Minako smiles quietly to herself, hoping that Nikiforov will be worth all the hero-worship Yuuri is putting into him.

XXX

They only kiss once.

Minako has a crush on Lilia from the first time they meet. It's hard for her to recognize because it's mixed up in a thousand other emotions—awe, respect, a bit of envy. Lilia is the star that Minako is chasing, and it never occurs to her to wonder if the fire will burn her when she finally catches up.

Does Lilia think of Minako the same way? Minako doubts it. Though she's good— _great_ , she knows, though a woman saying such a thing out loud is frowned upon—Lilia is just as good. Lilia was just as good before Minako started making her own mark, and it wouldn't surprise her if Lilia didn't know her name from Eve.

Minako wants to change that, and when the two of them are selected to perform in a well-paying but short-running performance together, she knows she'll have her chance.

Minako isn't afraid. She thinks, sometimes, that this is what separates her from a lot of the other stars that she works with. She _should_ be afraid. There is plenty for her to be afraid of—injury, aging, rejection based on nationality. She has already faced and overcome the first, though following her coach's instructions not to walk on her injured leg for two weeks had been agony. She knows there is nothing she can do about the second, and so she doesn't worry about it—if others will judge her for her age, condemn her as decrepit because of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes when her legs are still strong, that's their problem and nothing she can change. The last she has faced and learned through bitter experience she cannot change, so she simply relishes the opportunities she has.

Such as the opportunity to dance with Lilia.

Lilia has the starring role, of course. But Minako has the second female part, and they have an entire number where they fly back and forth across the stage, playing off each other, Minako in black and Lilia in white.

Practicing the part is breathtaking, a simmering, roiling boil just beneath the surface of every movement.

Performing the part, with the full orchestra hidden below them and thousands of eyes watching, is like flying on phoenix wings.

They can't say anything when they're done, of course. They have to finish the rest of the show, and they both do so with grace. But when _that_ is finished, when they're showered and changed and free for the night...

Did Minako think that Lilia would find her? Is that why she lingered by the exit? If it was, then her instincts were right, because Lilia pauses, her sharp eyes fixed on Minako's face.

"Thank you." Minako's voice is harsh on the English phrase. "I wanted to say that. I'm glad we were able to dance together. And I hope we can do it again."

"You're a brilliant dancer." Lilia's eyes sweep up and down Minako's body, assessing, appreciating, cataloging. "It was an honor for me as well."

"I've wanted to do this for... a long time." Minako keeps her head up, though fear—the fear she never feels on stage—is beginning to twist inside her. "And it was everything I wanted."

"I remember. The little girl in Saint Petersburg, all grown up." Lilia smiles, and it practically slashes Minako's chest open. "But I don't think the dance was all you wanted."

Lilia takes a step closer to Minako, and Minako finds herself mirroring the movement, lifting a hand to touch Lilia's tightly bound hair.

"You want something more. I can see it in your eyes." Lilia's fingertips touch feather-light to the edge of Minako's right eye. "You want to dance, yes. And we've done that. And you want my acknowledgment, yes, and I give you that. What else is it that you want?"

Minako stares into Lilia's eyes, her tongue frozen in her mouth.

Lilia smiles, and there is kindness in it despite it being a cold expression. "We are beautiful creatures, Minako. We are meant to be admired, desired, chased. But we are also creatures who must move, constantly. Who must be what our audience wants us to be. We are the epitome of beauty, always. And there is nothing beautiful in a messy relationship plagued by distance and competition."

"Says who?" Minako narrows her eyes, studying Lilia's face up close.

"Says experience." Lilia's mouth moves closer, slowly, until her lips just brush Minako's. "So have a kiss. I think we earned that, beautiful one. But don't expect or want more, because we'll only be disappointed."

Lilia leaves after that, her shoes clicking softly against the floor.

They continue to dance brilliantly together for the woefully short duration of the show, and then Lilia heads to Moscow, Minako to America, and any hope Minako had of overcoming Lilia's doubts slowly evaporates in the heat of a New York summer.

XXX

Victor kisses Yuuri on the ice, in front of an audience of thousands, and Yuuri loves every moment of it.

Minako had been afraid he wouldn't. She had been afraid that when she finally got to talk to him the nervous young man would think something had been stolen from him, that the publicity of the event would have somehow negated the emotional import of it.

Instead she finds Yuuri practically giddy with delight, though the anxiety still simmers in frissons along the surface of his babbling.

"I just don't know what it _means_." Yuuri is hugging a pillow to himself, his knees drawn up to his chest as though he is younger than his years.

In some ways he is, just like in others he's older. The lives that they live—those who are the best in their chosen fields of performance, or at least those who aspire to be—are never normal. Why should the people forged by those lives be expected to be? "Which part?"

"Any of it. All of it. Why did he decide to coach me? Why did he..." Yuuri's face flushes, his skin darkening. "He kissed me. In front of everyone. He said it was to startle me, and he certainly _did_ , but..."

"I can't say why he did what he did." Minako crosses her right leg over her left. "Neither can you, no matter how much you speculate. Only he can, so you'll have to ask him about it. What you _can_ answer is how you felt about it, and what you want in the future."

Yuuri looks down at his hands, and Minako thinks perhaps this will be the end of the conversation. She could have Phichit talk to Yuuri, she supposes. The boy is always eager to talk and plan, and he seems privy to a side of Yuuri that Minako doesn't frequently see—the side that comes out when Yuuri has been drinking or thinks he has nothing left to lose, the side that is fierce and unafraid and done with being anxious all the time.

Then Yuuri lifts his head, and there's something of that fierceness shining in the depths of his eyes. "I want him. I want him to stay with me. To be my coach. To be my... I want him."

Minako ponders just leaving it at that. From Yuuri, it's a strong declaration. Then she remembers the feel of soft lips against her own, her idol's fingers on her cheeks, and knows that she can't. "You want him to be your boyfriend."

Yuuri's spine is so straight it must be painful, but he manages a jerky nod.

"It's not easy, you know. Being in a relationship when you're both at the top of your game." Minako wishes she had a drink in hand so that she could sip from it, buy herself a few seconds of time to find the right words. "If he decides he hasn't really retired... and then there's the matter of him being Russian..."

Yuuri's shoulders slump, and his eyes return to their focus on his hands. "I know. It's impractical. It's a silly—"

Minako leans forward, cupping Yuuri's chin and raising his head. "If you want it, go for it. With all your heart. Woo him. Do whatever you can to keep him with you. Recognize it will be hard, but don't give up. Because you'll regret it every day if you do."

"I..." Yuuri leans back, looking startled. "You think I should try to keep him with me?"

"If you want him, yes." Minako leans back in her seat. "Chase your dreams, Yuuri. Whether that's on the ice or off."

Yuuri hugs the pillow close to him, and silence descends between them, not broken until Minako stands to leave.

"Minako-sensei..." Yuuri's voice is hesitant. "Every day?"

"All right." Minako smiles. "Not every day. Just when you're drinking and thinking of what might have been. And maybe there's no one who doesn't do that—have something in their past that they think 'if only', or 'what if I had'. But the fewer of those you can collect, I think, the better."

Yuuri returns to his study of his hands, and Minako murmurs a goodnight and lets herself out.

Whatever Yuuri decides to do, Minako will help him as much as she can, whether that means actively doing something or standing by the sidelines to watch while he beats his anxiety into submission under hours and hours worth of practice.

XXX

Minako wins the Prix Benois de la Danse when she's thirty-three years old.

She's not sure what she feels as she walks up the aisle to accept the statue from the hands of a smiling blond man. Everyone is clapping for her, though the applause dies down as she turns to face the audience.

No one from Japan has ever won this award before. It marks Minako as someone special, one of the best ballet dancers of her time. It means that she's succeeded at crafting a career—a _brilliant_ career—where no one would have expected it.

She says the appropriate things. She thanks those who voted to give her the award. She thanks her parents for all their support. She thanks Hiroko for being a wonderful and supportive friend.

She walks off the stage with the award weighing heavily in her hand, and sits through the rest of the ceremony in numb silence.

Lilia finds her as soon as the ceremony is ended. Minako hadn't expected it. Though she's stayed aware of Lilia—still wants to be Lilia, in some ways—their paths haven't crossed as often as she hoped. Lilia spends too much time in Russia, while Minako is happy to go anywhere the dancing is good.

"Minako." Lilia grabs her by the hand, hauling Minako off to a somewhat secluded corner of the reception hall. She turns to study Minako, her eyes moving up and down Minako's body appraisingly. "Congratulations are in order, I believe. You have been given quite the honor."

Minako waves a hand dismissively. "I'm sure you'll receive one soon enough."

A smile touches the corners of Lilia's mouth, certain and sure. "I think that I shall. And I wonder if you will be here to watch when I do."

Minako freezes. "I... what do you mean?"

Lilia reaches out to touch Minako's face, her fingers ghosting over places they touched a lifetime ago. "I have watched you dance your whole career. I have seen your beauty grow until it shines as brightly as mine does. I have watched you remake yourself ten, twenty, a hundred times. And now, I fear, I am watching you force yourself into a shape that doesn't fit."

Swallowing against a lump in her throat, Minako shakes her head. "I haven't had any injuries. I'm doing just fine. Heck, maybe we'll even be performing together again soon."

"Maybe." Lilia takes a step back. "Perhaps. If we were, would your fire be back? Would the light that makes you more beautiful than your competitors rekindle if we were to dance together?"

Minako is silent, stunned by the accusation.

Lilia sighs, raising a hand to touch her forehead. "When was the last time you _enjoyed_ dancing, Minako? When you did it for the sheer love of it, for the glory of what you could create, and not because it is expected, it is done, it is _you_?"

The terrible empty numbness that had accompanied receiving the award begins to shatter, and Minako finds herself shivering.

"That's what I thought." Lilia smiles tiredly. "I wonder if we should still be doing this, if the joy is gone. Always it is hard work, it _should_ be hard work, but if that hard work is not tempered with joy..."

"It's just a temporary problem." Minako forces a smile. "I'm sure by the time my next performance comes around, everything will be fine."

"I hope that it is." Lilia steps back again, clearly inviting Minako to leave.

Minako does, keeping her head up.

"And Minako..." Lilia's voice is soft but carries anyway. "If you find an answer, will you let me know?"

Minako turns and gives a brief nod, not daring to try more.

She allows herself to be signed for one more year of performances, and then she retires, Lilia's musings on beauty and rights ringing in her ears.

XXX

Yuuri doesn't win gold.

Minako had expected him to be devastated. Though this has been his best year to date, Yuuri had also invested a great deal of meaning in winning gold this time, and to be upstaged by the Russian child must sting.

It doesn't show in his eager energy as he packs, though. Minako assists him, helping him choose the minimum of material that will still allow him to feel at home in Russia. "You're excited about this?"

"Yes. Of course." Yuuri smiles. He does that frequently these days. "I'm going to be practicing with Victor. I'm going to be _competing_ with Victor, and I might actually have a chance."

"You still love it." A fond smile touches Minako's mouth. "The skating, I mean."

"I love the skating." Yuuri pauses, a small book in hand. "I had forgotten that I did, I think. Everything was so awful after... but I do love it. I love making something that's _me_ , something that only I can do. And I love showing it off to Victor."

"Good." Minako reaches over to ruffle Yuuri's hair. "As long as you feel that way, this year is going to be great for you."

Yuuri's smile somehow becomes even wider. "I think so, too."

Minako sees him off at the airport. By the time she gets back to the town proper, it's dark.

She doesn't hesitate. Heading to the ice rink, she straps on a pair of skates and begins gliding across the smooth surface, cutting into the shimmering glass of the ice.

Hands up above her head, Minako turns in a full circle. Then she attempts a small jump and ends up skidding across the ice on her butt.

Tilting her head back so that she can study the lights in the rafters, Minako smiles. She's really not very good at skating. She can do it, certainly. And she _knows_ good skating. But she isn't a great skater by any means. If she wants something she's great at, she should head back to her dance studio.

And she will. When she's done here, she'll probably head to the studio, stretch, and work on putting a bit of choreography together into something new and special. There are recitals coming up in three months, after all, and her students will need something to show off.

Getting back on her feet, Minako dusts herself off and begins gliding again.

It took her the better part of a year to really start loving dance again once she retired. It was a year during which Hiroko had been an indispensable part of her life, helping Minako settle in, find a house, find a _schedule_ that didn't revolve around dance and travel. When she started dancing again, she was horribly rusty.

It was also far more fun than it had been. Just like teaching was more fun than she could ever have imagined it would be—teaching those who could be great, and those who never will be, and those who just don't care as long as they can sway to the music along with someone else.

Just like Minako doesn't care that she will never be Yuuri—never be Victor or Christopher or any of the others—provided she can still enjoy the experience of the ice parting beneath her skate.

Another jump, another slide across the ice, and this time Minako lies still for a few seconds, her breath fogging above her.

"Do it because you love it. Have pride in yourself. See yourself reborn as many times as needed." Minako sighs, watching the steam of her life rise up.

Is this where she would have pictured herself once upon a time? Would her six year old, her sixteen year old, her twenty six year old self be happy with where she is now?

It doesn't matter, because the Minako lying here right now is happy. She has been a star. She has been a teacher. She has been a friend.

And she will continue to be whatever she wants to be, and hopefully help Yuuri and the rest be what they want to be. If they don't look out for each other, after all, the gifted and the driven, then who will?


End file.
